The viciousness of the attack on the clerk and the fact that he used a gun to hold the man up were what put him away for so long. He’d had a laundry list of misdemeanors including two DUIs, driving on a suspended license, and several assault charges. A felony assault had given him a sentence for six months, of which he served only three.
Jo flipped through her father’s reports and watched the timeline of the last six months that Ziggy was a free man. He’d been in jail the summer before the reports from the schools started showing up. Apparently, his time in prison made him meaner, and when he was released, he turned his mean onto Zoe and her family.
On two occasions Jo’s father quoted Zoe’s words.
Each time made Jo’s heart ache so many years later.
The school nurse had called him in when she found a welt over Zoe’s back.
Sheriff Ward: “How did you get that mark on your back, Zoe?”
Zoe Brown: “The rope swing broke when I was on it and the rope hit my back.”
Sheriff Ward: “Did you fall off the swing?”
Zoe Brown: Answered with a nod.
Sheriff Ward: “When you fell, how did you land on the ground?”
Zoe Brown: The child waited for thirty seconds and started to shake. “I don’t remember.”
Sheriff Ward: “Did you fall on your bottom? Your knees? Did you catch yourself with your hands?”—Note: Her hands were not scraped. Child was wearing long pants and a long sleeve shirt.
Zoe Brown: “I don’t remember.”
Sheriff Ward: I ended my questions when the child started to cry.
The report indicated Jo’s dad went to the Brown home to find Ziggy Brown alone. He’d questioned Zoe’s dad, who came up with an identical answer. “The rope swing broke and hit her on the back.”
When asked which tree the rope swing had been in, Ziggy pointed to an old pine. Upon investigation, there were no marks or evidence of a swing ever being in the tree. Ziggy explained they hadn’t had it long.
There wasn’t much he could do with the report other than watch for more possible home violence. There was a side note stating that Zane’s teacher asked if he ever had a rope swing at his house and the child answered no.
Still, there wasn’t anything Jo’s dad could do without more evidence and an actual complaint of domestic violence.
Jo sipped her coffee from the front seat of her squad car, her eyes drifting toward Zoe’s childhood home. They’d all shared some great times there once Ziggy was put away. Jo remembered her father wouldn’t let her go anywhere near the Brown home when he lived there. That didn’t mean that Jo and Zoe hadn’t been friends. Back then Jo was focused on her own world and not paying attention to Zoe’s. It wasn’t until junior high that Mel, Jo, and Zoe had really hooked up and formed their forever friendship.
The house hadn’t changed much . . . well, it had morphed a little. Lack of maintenance and attention seemed to make the left side of the house dip into the earth. Or maybe that was just the weeds swimming high on the foundation. The rut-filled gravel drive housed the old Pontiac Sheryl drove, and occasionally Mylo’s beat-up old truck. Zane was riding a motorcycle most of the time, but it wasn’t anywhere on the property.
Lights inside the Brown home flickered on in the back bedroom.
Jo rolled down her window, ignored the drizzle falling from the sky, and heard Blaze crying.
Jo straightened up in her car when the front door opened and Zanya stepped out of the home with Blaze in her arms. Dressed in a bathrobe, she bounced a cranky Blaze around in what appeared to be an effort to calm him down. She spoke to him in a quiet voice with words Jo couldn’t make out.
When the door opened a second time, Jo’s hand was on the car door handle, ready to step out.
Sheryl’s head peeked out, along with her hand, which held a bottle.
Zanya took the bottle, popped it in Blaze’s mouth, and turned to walk back in.
That was when Sheryl looked above her daughter’s head, and her gaze caught Jo’s.
Jo was lifting her hand to wave when Sheryl’s expression shifted from surprise to annoyance.
Zanya glanced over her shoulder and offered a weak smile before Sheryl pushed her through the door and closed it.
“Shit,” Jo cussed at the universe. The division in the family was already in full swing. The adults would take sides, leaving some with Ziggy and some on the street.
A curtain on the back bedroom shifted enough to know that someone was looking out.
Instead of driving off, she decided to hold out until Zoe showed up.
Jo knew her friend wasn’t sleeping in.
No, Zoe would be picking her words carefully and figuring out the best time to show up and confront the whole sordid mess.
Chapter Seventeen
Zoe watched the trees as they drove closer to the house. Each one felt like a countdown, a ticking clock to doom. It was just after ten in the morning. Early enough to ensure that everyone would be home, and late enough to know she hadn’t pulled anyone out of bed.
The thought of her mother sleeping beside her father made her physically ill. She silently prayed to find evidence of someone bunking on the broken-down couch.
The last quarter mile to the house, her head lifted, and she saw Jo’s squad car off the side of the road.
She attempted a smile.
Luke pulled alongside Jo and stopped.
Jo lowered her wire-rimmed sunglasses as she spoke. “You ready for this?”
“No.”
“You don’t have to—”
“We both know I do.” Zoe stared at the double-wide and felt like it was foreign to her. It might have stopped being her residence a decade ago, but now it didn’t even feel like a place she was welcome. And she’d yet to breach the front door.
“Do you want me to go in with you?”
Zoe shook her head. “Luke is coming in.” She wasn’t about to go in alone.
Bringing Jo in might prove grounds for all kinds of confrontation simply because of her uniform.
“I’m right out here.”
Zoe’s gaze skirted away from the house and to Jo. The weak smile on Jo’s face matched hers. She placed her hand on Luke’s thigh. “Let’s get this over with.”
The rain had let up, but clouds still filled the sky, and fog closed in the edges of the property. Fog always had a way of making the place look cleaner than it was.
Why that thought sprang into Zoe’s head as she stepped out of the car, she didn’t know.
Luke walked around the front of the truck and reached for her hand. She took it with more force than she expected.
“I’m right here.”
They walked up the steps in slow motion. She hesitated before knocking on the door. Before that moment in her life, a knock would always be followed by letting herself in.
Not today.
The curtains to the right of the door moved before she heard the doorknob rattle.
Zoe held her breath.
Zanya answered in silence. Zoe would have liked to say she saw something, some kind of communication in her sister’s eyes, but there was nothing.
Behind her baby sister, on the sofa that was older than dirt, Zoe’s eyes collided with her father.
Her heart skipped a beat, and physical pain threatened to cripple her knees.
The desire to hit the man ran side by side with her desire to turn and walk back out.
She didn’t do either.
Her mom stood at the edge of the couch in worn blue jeans and a white T-shirt. “You don’t have to knock,” she told her.
Zoe couldn’t look at her mom. Instead, she took in the man who stood as the poster child for deadbeat dad. He looked like the devil to her, but to the unknowing observer, he appeared handsome. Prison had given him gray hair and a trimmed beard. The lines on his face were soft as he stared, his eyes occasionally shifting to Luke. He’d stayed in shape in prison, not surprising when he had nothing better to do while locked away.
He hadn’t aged. In fact, he looked healthier than when she’d last seen him. Forced sobriety was probably to blame. In contrast, her mother looked just this side of homeless. Hard living with no sure way of making it better had done that to Sheryl.
“Why are you here?” She directed the question to Ziggy.
“Well hello to you, too, sweet pea.”
Zoe swallowed hard, narrowed her focus. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Zoe!” her mom warned.
Ziggy sat back, placed an arm on the back of the couch. “This is where I live.”
“Not in over seventeen years.”
“That’s part of my past, little girl. I’m a changed man.” He opened his arms. “Now come here and give me a proper greeting.”
Zoe stepped closer to Luke’s side and finally looked away. “What is he doing here, Mom? Help me understand.”
Sheryl opened her mouth, but Ziggy spoke for her.
“This is my house.”
Zoe refused to look at him. “Mom?”
“This has always been his house.”
“You told me it’s in your name.”
Sheryl looked between Zoe and Luke.
“The house is mine, little girl. Your mama is my guest.”
Anger flashed. “I’m not a little girl, Ziggy!” She made a point of using his name and setting boundaries. He may have intimidated her as a child, but she wasn’t about to put herself in the role of victim ever again. “And my mama has been holding this place together since before you went to prison. You have no right to—”
“Show some respect, little girl.” Ziggy’s smile pushed into a thin line.
“Is this his house?” she asked her mom one final time.
Her mother nodded.
“I gave you money to help with the mortgage. A mortgage I thought belonged to you.” To think all these years she’d been somehow putting money in Ziggy’s pocket hit her like a wrecking ball.
“I suppose I should thank you, baby doll.”
“Don’t talk to me. You have no right.”
“A man’s home is his castle, and I don’t appreciate your tone.”
Zoe glanced at Zanya, who’d stood in silence during the conversation. “Fine! Mom, Zanya . . . pack up.” She’d take them back to Texas, find another place in River Bend . . . anything. If Ziggy held them there because he’d somehow been able to keep the piece of crap trailer in his name all these years, then he could have it.
Zanya didn’t move and Sheryl sat on the arm of the couch.
Ziggy snaked an arm around her mom’s hips and pulled her into his lap. When her mother didn’t resist, a piece of Zoe’s heart tore into pieces. “What are you doing? Let’s go. You don’t have to stay here. I’ll take care of everything.”
No one moved.
Ziggy sat with a fucking grin on his face.
Zoe wanted to slap it off.
“Mom!”
“Your dad has changed, honey. I know you don’t understand—”
“Oh, my God. You did not just say that. He’s a piece of crap who beat the shit out of you.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Ziggy said.
Zoe released Luke’s hand long enough to toss her palm in the air. “I was there, Ziggy. I know what I saw. I know what it felt like to have you whip on me and have me lie to my teachers, my friends. Well, those days are long past. I don’t know who you charmed to get out of prison, but you’re not going to have the opportunity to hurt my family again.”
“You were always a willful girl.”
Zoe took a step closer, wanted to show him just how willful she could be. Luke clasped his hand to hers, kept her close, and spoke up. “Sheryl, Zanya. I have room at my place. You can stay with me while we figure this out.”
The heat of Luke’s frame and warmth of his voice as he volunteered his home to her family filled her heart.
“You’re the Miller boy, right?” Ziggy asked.
Luke didn’t bother looking at her dad.
“C’mon, Mom.” Why was the woman sitting in Ziggy’s lap? Had he already threatened her, found a way to force her to stay?
“You leave my wife alone, little girl. She belongs here, with me.”
The word wife made Zoe cringe. She stared at her mother. “Mom?”
Ziggy kissed the side of her mother’s cheek and bile rose in Zoe’s throat.
“Son of a . . . you didn’t divorce him, did you?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I don’t. You’re right. He’s a felon, an abuser, a piece of shit father—” She was yelling now.
“Zoe, enough.” This time it was Sheryl cutting her off. “We will talk about this another time. You’re upset.”
“He beat us up, Mom. You stayed with him all those years and watched him get drunk and use his fists on us kids. How can you even let him touch you?” Zoe purposely didn’t look at her dad or even acknowledge him being in the room.
“Discipline is a fine line these days,” Ziggy said. “So many people want to cry abuse. I might have been a little harsh with you, but I did not beat on you, little girl.”
Zoe swung her head around and glared. “I am not a little girl. I’m not your sweet pea . . . I’m not your anything. You are dead to me.”
“Zoe!” The warning came from her mom. “Please.”
It was obvious her mother wasn’t going anywhere. Worse, it didn’t look like she was being forced to stay. Zoe turned to Zanya. “Grab Blaze. We’ll figure something out.”
Zanya shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad, Zoe.”
The air in Zoe’s lungs rushed out. The desire to scream and recall in painful detail every beating she’d experienced under the hands of her father came out in a manic laugh. “Unbelievable.”
“I think you should leave,” Ziggy said.
“C’mon, Zoe.” Luke squeezed her hand and tugged her toward the door.
She turned to leave and stopped cold. Her eyes reached her mom, her sister. “He will hit you again.”
In the back room, Blaze started to cry.
In Zoe’s head, she promised herself that if Zanya allowed her son the abuse they’d suffered as children, she’d step in with legal help to keep him safe.
Luke kept an arm around her, and her frame shook as they walked to the truck. He helped her into the passenger seat without words and climbed in to drive.
As they pulled away from her childhood home, Zoe vowed to never return.
Jo arrived at Miss Gina’s in uniform.
A lack of sleep circled under her eyes, making Zoe wonder if her friend was sleeping in her squad car instead of her bed.
Zoe threw together a simple dinner and encouraged Luke to spend time with Wyatt or his parents . . . or someone so she could talk in private with her friends. Not that she was keeping secrets, but talking candidly while figuring out where her head was at with everything revolving around Ziggy’s appearance called for alone time with the girls.
The clouds had opened up and rain was falling in deep sheets. The inn was free of guests, making it easy to dominate the parlor without worry of interruption or eavesdropping.
Mel wrapped a blanket over her lap as she curled up on the couch with a portion of cheesy chicken and rice casserole on her plate. Zoe tucked her feet under her butt and settled in while Jo removed her cop belt, gun included, and placed it on the coffee table.
“So she never divorced him,” Mel said as she filled her fork. “That’s stupid crazy.”
“Why did she lie?”
“What would she have gained by telling you the truth?” Jo asked between bites. “You breathing down her neck to get a divorce?”
Zoe played with her portion of food. “Probably. She lied about everything. If Ziggy owned the house, she could have told me, I would have helped her move.”
“If there is one thing I’ve learned since putting on this uniform, it’s that some people don’t want to be helped. Alcoholics don’t want to get sober, thieves don’t want to get a
job so they don’t have to steal to make a buck, and battered women don’t want to leave their abusive husbands for fear of being alone.”
“But she’s been alone for seventeen years. She hasn’t had to dodge a fist or sit out in the cold for years.” It made no sense to Zoe. None whatsoever. “And what the hell is wrong with my sister? Has she forgotten what an ass he is?”
“Zanya is a lot more like your mom than you are. She’s looking for someone to take care of her and Blaze. Maybe your dad—”
“Don’t call him that, Mel.”
Mel lifted a hand in apology. “Maybe Ziggy promised the world.”
“I promised the world and they both know I can deliver.”
Both of her friends shook their heads in disbelief.
“We’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. I don’t care what the system says, animals like Ziggy don’t change their stripes. The man is on parole. One drink and I’m bringing him in . . . one step outside the line. Then, when he’s back on the inside, we can figure out this mess.”
Zoe attempted another bite. Even her comfort food wasn’t doing its job. “I don’t want to wait for him to screw up. I need to know if he is holding something over my mom.”
“And if he isn’t? If she’s making a mistake and doesn’t care who it hurts . . . what then?” Mel asked.
“Then I walk away. I don’t want that stress in my life.”
“You say that now, but if she showed up bruised and broken, you’d pull her in,” Jo countered.
“Then I’m counting on you two to talk me out of letting the cycle continue. I don’t know if it’s a lost cause yet . . . but when it becomes painfully evident that I’m wasting my tears on the situation, you both need to remind me of this night.”
“What do you want us to do then?” Jo’s stoic expression told Zoe she was listening hard.
“Tell me to walk away. Remind me she’ll just fall for him again. If she is stupid in love with that bastard and is willing to go through all that crap again, let her have it. I’m no longer a kid and don’t have to stick around to watch.” The thought of her own mother picking Ziggy over everyone else left her broken on the inside. What parent did that?
Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2) Page 15